


A Promise

by brobecking



Category: TWRP | Tupper Ware Remix Party (Band)
Genre: Ficlet, Meouch and Havve are just mentioned briefly for exposition purposes, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 20:34:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16794259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brobecking/pseuds/brobecking
Summary: Doctor Sung can't sleep, the house is too alive with negative energy.





	A Promise

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first TWRP fic I'm posting and I haven't written seriously in years, so forgive me if I'm rusty.

Being up at this hour had to be a crime. But there Sung was, unable to sleep. It wasn’t his fault, though. The entire house seemed to be radiating with energy. He just couldn’t tell exactly where it was coming from. So, there he lay, chest aching and eye begging to close, he light of his core casting a dim glow over his bedroom walls. He figured one of his bandmates was having a bad dream. It happened from time to time, and he was usually able to fix the problem with ease. But nightmares came with this specific feeling. No, this was something different.

Sung got up from his bed with a sigh, stretching his arms way above his head, coming down to rub the back of his neck. There was no way he was going to get any sleep with this aching feeling. It was like he had been punched right in the core, like he had a bruise right where his sternum was. If he was to get any rest that night he had to find out what was causing it and put an end to it. 

The bedroom door opened with a small creak. Sung peeked his head out into the darkened hallway, listening for any noise coming from the others’ rooms. Not a peep from downstairs, either. Havve was easiest to check off his list, robots didn’t have bad dreams. They didn’t dream at all. He pondered for a second whether or not to ask if he was okay over their link. Sung knew his friend was in the middle of recharging, and decided against bothering him. The robot wouldn’t appreciate being woken up at only half charge, especially for something as pointless as Sung asking if he was having a nightmare. Sung knew better than to tempt Havve’s temper.

Meouch’s door was the first one to his left. Only a quick few steps down the hall and he was there. Sung wrapped his hand around the handle and stopped. The leoian stopped having the night terrors that came from Funk withdrawal ages ago. The memory of waking up to his pained screams was fresh in Sung’s mind. There was only so much he could do to help ward off the symptoms. If he had left Meouch alone while he detoxed he could’ve easily succumbed to boredom. But as he stood outside the door, like he had many times before, listening Meouch’s deep snoring inside, Sung couldn’t feel the same nauseating anxiety he had felt during that time. 

So it must have been Phobos. 

Sung squinted down the hall. The door to the lepid’s room was ajar, as always. Phobos never liked being in a confined space, always ready to make a hasty escape if need be. It only took Sung a few days after meeting him to realize that was the reason Phobos never shut any door completely. His trust seemed to vanish with the rest of his people. Sung pitied him, but he understood his pain. Having your entire race annihilated, being left the lone survivor of a plague. That was something he knew all too well. It was months before Phobos had taken his armor off when around he and Havve, even longer when around Meouch. 

Sung padded quietly toward the door, using one finger to push it open slowly. The worsening ache was immediate. The room was swallowing him whole, pulling him in toward the source. He could see Phobos under his comforter, tossing and turning every few seconds. Upon walking closer, he could see his face twisted in a grimace, mouth letting out the smallest wimper, hair splayed over the pillow in every direction. The similar feeling of pity pushed its way to the surface of Sung’s mind. He hated seeing his friend like this, uncomfortable and in pain. They had all had their fair share of nightmares surrounding their circumstances, and unfortunately Phobos was no exception.

“Phobs?” Sung whispered. He reached a hand out to the other, placing it on Phobos’ shoulder to stop him from rolling away. If he focused enough, maybe he could help his friend without having to wake him. It took the little energy he had to send a calmer feeling to Phobos, but it only stopped him from moving around. The ache persisted. This was going to take a bit more than sending out better vibrations. Sung moved the covers from their place pulled tightly around Phobos. If his face was the first sign of discomfort, his body was the second. His arms wrapped tightly around his middle, legs curled into his stomach. He was even shivering, and dammit, it was the saddest sight Sung had seen in quite some time. 

So, he had to wake him up. As much as he hated to make Phobos lose sleep, he hated seeing him in pain more. Sung gently shook the hand he had placed on his shoulder. “Hey….Phobos….wake up bud.” He tried. Sometimes it pays to be an empath, he thought. There were other methods of getting the lepid to wake up. The response was instant, but not the one that was expected. Panic quickly replaced the feeling of dread. Phobos shot up from the bed, wrapping a hand around Sung’s throat and squeezing. Hard.

“It’s me! It’s me- heugh- Phobos it’s me!” Sung choked out. He raised his hands in surrender. The other blinked, only then realizing who he had in his grasp. “Yeah, it’s me. Could you um, let go please?” The panic subsided as Phobos loosened his grip around Sung’s neck and dropped his hand and his head to meet his lap. He was still shaking, but he seemed calmer than before. While this was somewhat of a relief to Sung as the dull aching was gone, he was still worried about Phobos. He had grown fond of the lepid over the years that they had been friends.

The lamp on the side of the bed was turned on. Sung climbed onto the bed, pulling the comforter tight around the two of them as he sat down next to the other. It didn’t take long before Phobos rested his head against Sung’s shoulder. The two sat in silence for a few moments, only the sound of Phobos’ labored breathing filled the room. 

“Bad dream?” Sung asked tentatively. 

A shake of the head.

“Good dream?” He tried. 

Phobos raised his head to look Sung in the eye. Ever since he had calmed down, that familiar wall in his mind Sung could never seem to see through was apparent. Always there, never moving. Even when he thought he knew everything about Phobos, the wall was still there. He knew it had to be the result of the trust issues he had after the Funk accident. Sung wanted so badly for Phobos to trust him enough, to let him in, but even after all this time he was still so reserved. Phobos was searching for something in his eyes, but Sung couldn’t for the life of him guess what it was. 

“I’m worried about you. The whole house was full of this strange energy, I couldn’t sleep.” 

_I’m sorry._ Phobos signed, still with a quiver about his movement.

“No! Don’t be.” Sung was quick to deflect the other’s apology. He placed his hand over Phobos’, pushing it back down away from his chest. “You were sleeping, you couldn’t help it. I came to check on you and you were shaking, and when I tried to calm you down, it didn’t work, so I woke you up. Are you sure it wasn’t a bad dream?” Phobos nodded, but Sung could sense he wasn’t telling the truth. He didn’t want to push him but…

His train of thought was cut short by another feeling. Was that...embarrassment? Shame? Something else? The wall was preventing him from going in any further. Sung felt bad attempting to pry into his friend’s complex emotions, but he was worried sick that something was wrong. He didn’t want to go back to that first month on their ship. All the bad energy stirring in the air making Sung’s head spin.

“You can trust me, Phobs. I would never hurt you, I swear.” He spoke softly, putting all the meaning and assurance he could into his words, squeezing the hand he was holding in his own. Phobos looked desperately helpless, the ache returning to the room. Sung turned his body more to face him. Tears were brimmed on all four of the lepid’s eyes, threatening to roll down his cheeks at any moment. His hair was still a mess. His face flushed. His mouth open just enough to make Sung want him say something, anything. It had been years since he heard Phobos speak. 

“Pro- ehem- promise?” That was the voice he had been missing. Soft, and a bit rough due to misuse. But it was there, a question begging to be answered. 

“Promise.” He answered, nodding just once to emphasize his point. 

Phobos leant forward, wrapping his arms around Sung and burying his face into his chest. 

That was when the wall came down. Sung was flooded with everything that was being held back.


End file.
